


Give and Take Ch.25 (Final) and Epilogue

by kinfic2



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-08 19:39:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12260805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinfic2/pseuds/kinfic2
Summary: “Can’t we try just a little bit harder? Can’t we give just a little bit more?Can’t we try to understand that it’s love we’re fighting for?”   ©D.Hill





	Give and Take Ch.25 (Final) and Epilogue

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so very much to everyone who read and/or left comments. This was only supposed to be a one-chapter fic. LOL, goes to show what I know! Hope you enjoy this last chapter and the epilogue.

_“You might have heard my footsteps echo softly in the distance through the canyons of your mind._  
                      _I might have even called your name as I went searching after something to believe in._  
                                         _Across my dreams, with nets of wonder, I chase the bright elusive butterfly of love._ _©B.Lind_  
  
       Justin heaved himself to his feet with a wide yawn and stretched his arms upward. His leg had started to cramp and one ass cheek was numb.  
  
      “I’m going to get a beer. You want one?” He clasped his hands behind his head and rolled his shoulders, focused on dislodging the crick in his neck. His face heated as hazel eyes followed the trail of his rising shirt. _We really are sluts for each other._  
  
                                                                                                * * *  
  
       Brian nodded and lit a cigarette, grateful for any diversion to occupy his mind and hands. He studied the vine-like rings of smoke while keeping a sly eye on the perfect ass being tenderly massaged. “Need a hand?”  
  
      “It’s numb from your fucking floor!”  
  
      “I can help you with that.” He moved to get up from the sofa.  
  
     “Stay right where you are, Mr. Kinney!” Justin made jabbing motions in the air with his finger.  
  
       He couldn’t decipher the look—desire, anger, anxiety? There was a fine line between a _fuck you, you think you’re so funny_ pissed-off Justin and a _fuck you, I’m out of here_ pissed-off Justin. He could deal with the first. He couldn’t live with the second.  
  
       He eyed the gesticulating finger. “Do you plan on stabbing me with that thing?”  
  
      “What thing?”  
  
      “The digit you’re waving at me.”  
  
      “Oh! Yeah, I agree, not a very effective weapon.”  
  
       He inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. The light banter had loosened the coil around his muscles—until steely blue fired a well-aimed dagger. “But I have others.”  
  
       His gaze dipped again to the form-fitting jeans, but this time, in a desperate attempt to commit every detail to memory. Justin’s attitude pelted him with icy droplets of terror, a harsh reminder that they they were in a fight for their lives and to take nothing for granted. He couldn’t wake up years from now with the stinging realization that time had outsped him before he even had a chance to grasp the concept that he was in a race.  
  
                                                                                                * * *  
  
                                    _“Pardon the way that I stare. There’s nothing else to compare. The sight of you leaves me weak._  
                                     _There are no words left to speak.You’re just too good to be true. Can’t take my eyes off you.”_ _©B.Crewe_

       Justin returned with the beers and despite their precarious situation, he was awestruck. With finely chiseled features and polished marble skin, the man resembled a master sculptor's creation.  
  
      He was still smiling when he handed Brian his beer, but the electricity from the touch shocked him out of his reverie. Jolted back to their current predicament, he deliberately positioned himself on the opposite end of the sofa with his legs tucked beneath him and emptied half the bottle.  
  
      “It really is fascinating _._ Nothing’s ever simple with us. There’s so much history, good and bad. Maybe that’s why all this...” he waved his hand, “is still where it is. We’re good at getting out the surface shit, but we never take the time to get into the fundamentals.”  
  
      He shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe it’s because there are things we both don’t want to face or admit and we're too afraid of what will happen if we do. I think one reason we have a hard time seeing each other’s point of view is because we’re both strong-willed and we’re both intense about whatever it is we’re into. Including each other.”  
  
       He waited for a responses. Any response. Nothing. He uneasily picked at the bottle label with his fingernail. “So.”  
  
                                                                                                * * *  
  
       Brian darted a sidelong glance. “Yeah.” He didn’t know how to stop the approaching storm or even if he should.  
  
       A muttered _fuck_ and vigorous shake of a blond head triggered his personal Justin alarm. “You all right?”  
  
      “Okay, I’m going to say this fast, and I don’t want you to interrupt. Got it?”  
  
       With a premonition something bad was about to happen, he ignored the rollercoaster in his stomach and gave an uncertain nod. Caveats usually were a cause for concern. They always seemed to be harbingers of words he didn’t want to hear.  
  
      “I’m sorry.”  
  
      “What?” What the fuck was he talking about? On a good day, his thought process could be perplexing to follow, but tonight it was a struggle to keep up.  
  
       Justin made a zipping motion across his mouth. “I have to get it out, so go with me on this. I’m sorry about that night at Babylon and not just because you were there. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m not going to say it 'just happened' because it didn’t. Not that I went looking for it, but I didn’t stop it either.”  
  
       His words took on an accusatory tone. “See, the thing is, even after all this time, I still don’t feel secure with you and I really need to. What worries me is that I don’t know if I ever will, and you don’t help the situation. You were spending so much time at Kinnetik, never home, and when you were, things weren’t right with us. If I made a suggestion, you jumped down my throat. When I had too much E that one night, you stormed out without saying anything, and when you got back, I knew you had fucked some trick. I felt like a piece of furniture, like you could care less whether or not I was there. I...I just wanted to matter somehow.”  
  
      “I do have a business to run, you know. Besides, we never had any claims or ties on each other. I told you that from the beginning.”  
  
      “Right. So you’ve said in the past and continue to say, your own personal broken record. But let me ask you, do you keep repeating it because you want to beat me over the head with it, no pun intended, or because you need the reminder to persuade yourself?”  
  
       He hesitated, not knowing how to answer. “A little of both, I suppose. In my head it makes perfect sense, and it's how I feel, but seeing it unexpectedly like that, seeing you— It caught me off guard.” He finished lamely, “I guess I was surprised.”  
  
      “That’s it? You were surprised? Glad to see you haven’t lost your deep and abiding love for understatement.” Justin shook his head. “Wow! If that’s your reaction when you’re 'surprised,' I’d hate to see what I’d be in for if you felt something stronger.”  
  
       He bit back the eager retort itching to be set free. _Don't blow it, Kinney._ “Okay, so maybe there was a little jealously also.”  
  
       A raised brow was all he received.  
  
      “Okay, a lot of jealousy!”  
  
      “Much better. Now we’re getting somewhere.”  
  
       His eyes narrowed as he took weighted steps toward the desk. Restless and prickly, he shuffled papers and checked his watch, desperate to end their tête-à-tête. With each new admittance and mea culpa, his control slipped a little more.  
  
       And he needed that control. It didn’t matter what anyone thought about his actions or words, even Justin. All that mattered was a silent promise he made on a long ago night of blood and despair—he would do anything and everything in his power to keep him safe, including letting him go. But his resolve wavered because he couldn’t lose him, not now, not ever again.  
  
      “This is so fucking complicated,” he whispered.  
  
      “It always is with us, isn't it?”  
  
      “There’s too much—”  
  
      “Emotion? Feeling? All the things that strike fear in the cold-hearted Brian Kinney?”  
  
       He jerked his head in reluctant agreement.  
  
     “Well, you know what? I can do complicated, Brian! Complicated’s okay, but not if I have to do it alone. It’s not that I can't. It’s that I won't. So what’s another pathetic excuse I can shoot down?”  
  
      “It’s just.... Christ, you’re so fucking young for fuck sake!”  
  
                                                                                                  * * *  
  
       Justin tapped down a bubble of hysterical laughter. “Is that the best you can do? Great, just great! Okay, I’m young. Deal with it, and I’ll deal with you being so very old. Does that make you happy? Want to hold the funeral for us now? Christ, for someone who’s supposed to be so smart, you really are so fucking stupid.”  
  
       He refused to acknowledge the sudden defensive and bristly posture.“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were either trying to convince yourself of something or _out_ of something.”  
  
      “Doesn’t matter. Either way I’ll wind up betraying or hurting someone.”  
  
      “You know what your problem is? Well, one of them, anyway. You’re really a good person even though you do your damnedest to hide it from everyone. You have a sense of loyalty and honor, and you care about the things that you try to deny.” He ignored the uncomfortable scowl. “Don’t blame me for knowing you so well. What’s sad is that after all this time, you don't know _me_. Do you think the age thing is a big deal to me? Do you think I’m going to run off when you get a gray hair or a wrinkle or gain a few pounds? Do you think I’m that fucking shallow?”  
  
      “That’s not it.”  
  
      “Then what the fuck is it? Are you afraid the great stud of Liberty Avenue won’t be able to keep up with his young lover’s voracious sexual appetite?”  
  
       When he didn't receive an answer, his mouth dropped open. “Holy fuck! That is part of it, isn’t it? Jesus, I know your narcissism is ten times worse than everyone else’s, but seriously?”  
  
      “It’s not about me. I’m worried about you.”  
  
      “No, you’re not. You’re worried about you. You’re worried about the pain if I left again, and if I left over sex? That would be the ultimate slap in the face because in your misguided brain, it would make you weak, make it too up-front and personal.”  
  
       Hazel eyes appraised him with cool detachment, but the flickers of heat in the shadows sent a block of ice careening down his spine. Aware he had just thrown down the gauntlet, he chewed his bottom lip.  
  
       Brian's voice sliced through the oppressive stillness like a disdainful machete. “My, my, Sunshine, whose self-importance is rearing its ugly head now? Don’t fucking flatter yourself. I did have a life before you. I did fuck before you. And guess what? I’ll have a life and I’ll fuck after you. And now I have to piss.” 

                                                                                                  * * *

       Slumped on the sofa, Justin stared at the retreating figure and tried to make sense of their last exchange. Intellectually, he understood the defiance was precipitated by one emotion, fear, but that didn’t stop the pain and hurt. Deep in thought when Brian returned, he said, “I’m going to forget what you said because I know _why_ you said it and—”  
  
      “So now you’re the second coming of Mysterious Marilyn? Any other skills I should know about?”  
  
       He gritted his teeth. “All righty. I’ll ignore that one too.”  
  
     “You're such a fountain of generosity,” Brian snapped. “But you always are. So ready to forgive and forget, so ready to—”  
  
      “Fuck! That’s it! Did you take Jekyll and Hyde pills in the bathroom?”  
  
      “Oh, good one, Sunshine! Want to try for another?”  
  
       It took all of his self-control not prolong the verbal tennis match. The shields were going up, and he only had a finite window before he was locked out. Perhaps forever. This could be his last chance. He bolted up, arms flailing like an erratic windmill. “You want to do this? Fine, we’ll do it. Sit your fucking ass down!”  
  
       He marathoned back and forth across the loft then squeaked to a halt in front of the windows. “Here’s the bottom line. My feelings for you are real. They always have been. They’re not going away, whether you want them to or not, whether we talk about them or not. Maybe you took them for granted, maybe I did, maybe we both did. I don’t fucking know. I probably should have used the handcuffs for a different purpose and forced you to listen instead of letting you shut the proverbial door in my face and run away emotionally the way you always do. But that’s all past. This is the present and this is all we have.” He whooshed out a breath of air.  
  
      “I want all of you, Brian, not just physically. No more of this ‘I don’t know what we are’ bullshit. I want a definition. I don’t care whether you call it a relationship or a partnership or a fucking twosome or twostep. I love you, you fucking bastard! Is that plain enough?”  
  
       He spread his arms. “That’s it! That’s all I have left. All my cards are on the table. We make our future every moment of every day. Sometimes it’s a matter of timing, like standing under a street lamp—and being smart enough to take advantage of the situation.”  
  
      “You mean like stalking me?”  
  
      “Yep,” he said, pleased with himself.  
  
      “I pop your cherry, give you a rim job, fuck your brains out and you couldn’t let it go. You had to show off your 1500 SAT score and ‘take advantage’ of the circumstances.”  
  
      “I had no choice." He shrugged and turned thoughtful. “I couldn’t depend on you to do anything, so I had to take matters into my own hands. If I left it up to you, we wouldn’t be here, that’s for fucking sure. Looking at it realistically,” he mused, “I suppose we shouldn’t be together. Yet, it somehow makes sense, because for us _not_ to be together would make even less sense. In fact, it would be completely wrong. Life gives us choices, you know? Well, I choose you _._ ” There was a deep rasping in his throat, as if all the moisture was on the outside and not within. “Now it’s your turn, Mr. Kinney. Are you a coward or not?”  
  
                                                                                                    * * *  
  
       Brian rubbed his forehead and made a sound that was part groan, part growl. “Fuck! You never make things easy, do you?” He was furious that he had opened the door to shift the responsibility for their fate in his direction. He had been so careful to make sure the burden of decision was always on Justin.  
  
      “Why should I? You never do with me.” The reproach was impossible to miss.  
  
       With his equilibrium turned upside down in a vortex of emotion, uncertainty and anxiety tumbled around too fiercely for him to make sense of what he was feeling. His body sagged under the pressure. He had hoped he'd have more time before having to make any decisions and now that the moment of truth was here, he was terrified.  
  
       He stared long and hard without saying anything—yet seeing everything. Swept up in a tidal wave of blue-eyed honesty and sincerity, he was drowning in the depths of what he had attempted to deny for so long. He had to end this merry-go-round once and for all.  
                                                                                                    * * *  
  
       Justin broke their gaze. Unable to accept this could be the end, he stood frozen at the window and begged his brain to allow the crystalline moon calm his despair. It didn’t work.  
  
       As silent seconds morphed into silent minutes, fear flowed unchecked as _never_ flooded his veins and washed his dream away. Was he kidding himself they could work this out? Were their differences too great to overcome _?_ His head ached as he frantically searched for a way to make things right, but the mental gymnastics tugged at the fragile corners of his psyche. All he had to do was concentrate. He dug his nails into his palms. Keep trying! He had to make him understand that—  
  
      “No, Justin.”  
  
       Two words. Two simply-uttered words pierced his heart so deep he could physically feel it break. He pressed his palms against his eyes and forced himself to turn around, to look at his disappearing future. The man was already fading from view.  
  
      “But I...” He barely choked out the words in between the panic clogging his throat. An air of doom enveloped him like a funeral shroud. The dank cold seeped through his bones, and the buzzing in his head grew stronger, the vibrations louder. His skin turned clammy as his thigh muscles strained with the effort to stay upright. He recognized the signs. He was going to faint like a jilted drama queen. As he struggled against the sensation, Brian's voice cracked the haze.  
  
      “No, Justin, I am not a coward, but I can’t give you what you want. I can’t be what you want. You want the words? You’ve got them. I fucking love you, okay? I’ll even admit you’re right, at least this once. Yeah, I’m scared! I’m scared of _you_ and how you make me feel. I’m fucking terrified of going through the hell I went through after you left.”  
  
      “Brian....”  
  
      “Wait! Let me finish. I can’t promise you anything. What you see is what you get. I’m not going to turn into some monogamous Stepford fag, even for you, and I’m not going to do fucking flowers or picnics. Fuck! I don’t even know how often I’ll say the three words I just said, even though I know you want to hear them.” He held out his hands as if in defeat. “I have nothing to give you that matters, but I’ll give you whatever I can, do whatever I can, which isn’t much but—”  
  
     “Brian, shut up!” He stared at him through blurry eyes and opened his mouth to speak, but he was too near breaking. In one swift movement he was within touching distance of the man he loved, wanting and needing nothing more from him than he was capable of giving.  
  
    “No guarantees, remember?” he whispered in a husky voice as tears fell like raindrops. “You’re a part of me, the good and the bad. I don’t care how many guys you fucked in the past or how many you'll fuck in the future. I’m the only one who knows the real Brian Kinney. I’m the only one who’s touched your heart.”  
  
                                                           _“Close your eyes and I’ll try to get in to waken your heart like the spring_  
_‘Cause I was born to touch your feelings.”_   _©Schenker/Meine_  
  
                                                                                                      * * *      

      Brian reached out and hesitated. Would he disappear like in his dreams, one more cruel joke in his life? He took a chance and caressed the tear-stained face. With Justin's arms wrapped around him, he shook under the emotional earthquake. His chest heaved as years of guilt and pain were washed away by some of the first real emotion he felt in years, a thanksgiving prayer from a man who had given up on everything, particularly himself.  
  
**Do not cry with grief for what you have lost. Cry with joy for what you have gained. When you open your mind to endless possibilities, you open your heart as well. You alone have the power to affect the quality of your life and in so doing, create ripples of change in others that will echo throughout the course of time.**  
  
                                                                                                      * * *  
      Justin held on tight. “It’s okay. It's okay, Brian. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.” He wasn't that naive to think the tremors could crumble 'The House that Kinney Built.' It had taken one man a lifetime to build—it would take another for two men to tear it down. But that was all right. He could wait. After all, it was only time.

  
_“Love, look at the two of us, strangers in many ways. Let’s take a lifetime to say I knew you well_  
                                           _But only time will tell us so. And love may grow for all we know.”_         _©R.Carpenter_  
  
                                                                                                  **THE END**

 

EPILOGUE

**                     If you can’t find the answers to your questions, maybe there weren’t any questions that needed answers in the first place. **

_“As time goes by, I realize just what you mean to me_.                  
                                                            _And now, now that you’re near, promises your love_                   
                                                            _That I’ve waited to share and dreams of our moments together._  
_Color my world...with hope of loving you.”_ _©R.Lamm_  
  
       Brian strolled from the kitchen with the nacho chips and salsa expertly balanced between two beer bottles. He padded to the sofa, bare-chested and bare-footed, his low-slung jeans revealing a provocative glimpse of the trail Justin referred to as his pleasure path to a blissful destination.  
  
       Acutely aware the blue eyes were following his every move, he smirked. “See something you like?”  
  
      “Mmm, always!”  
  
       Determined not to allow the orange-red sauce on the ivory leather, he gingerly sat with a movement that rivaled the tortoise in his race with the hare. There was a pre-ordained reason why the gay gods decided jizz should be white. He settled in comfortably and poked the sweatpant-clad leg.  
  
      “Ow! What the fuck was that?” A salsa-laden chip already halfway to Justin's mouth.  
  
      “You get one fucking drop on my sofa....”  
  
       Justin’s eyes widened as he chewed and licked his lips between crunchy bites.  
  
      “Glad to see it was only the chip and dip that caught your attention, Mr. Taylor. We wouldn’t want you to be distracted would we?”  
  
       He shifted his position and reclined to his best advantage, his splayed legs splayed legs stretching the jeans taut across the area that mattered most. He bit into a chip and ran a suggestive tongue across his mouth. His eyebrow arched at the lustful stare. “What?”  
  
      “Fuck!” Justin gritted the word like sandpaper. “Okay, fine, all right? You win, asshole! Now cut it out so we can watch the movie!”  
  
      “I always win,” he said in a smug tone. Eyes fixed on the screeb, he added, “After all, I have you.”  
  
       When silence followed Justin's contented sigh, he nudged him with his big toe. “Do I even dare ask where you were? What's on your mind?”  
  
      “Hmm? Nothing in particular. I was just...I was just thinking how fucking lucky I am. Want to know why?”  
  
      “Not really, but I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”  
  
      “Don’t give me that sarcastic bullshit. You’re as happy as I am, even if you don’t admit it out loud. I have every right to feel lucky and be happy, so shut up. Don’t rain on my parade!”  
  
      “Should I get the tugboat out so you can give Barbra a run for her money?”  
  
      “Oh, by all means! I’ll enjoy watching you pull your tugboat out.” Justin dissolved into fits of laughter.  
  
      “Getting good at the one-liners, aren’t you?”  
  
      “I learned from the best. Had a good teacher. He was very generous with his ‘expertise.’”  
  
_What you don’t realize is that I’ve learned from you too, Sunshine._  
  
       Captured by the television's glow, blond hair morphed into strands of gold. But it was the eyes, always the eyes. Feeling their unseen weight, he tilted his head forward. A liquid film blurred the blue, and his brow quirked with an unspoken question.  
  
_“Every time I look into your eyes, I’m helplessly aware,_  
_                                                                          That the someone I’ve been searching for is right there.” __©R.Marx_  
  
      “Just feeling a little sappy,” Justin said.  
  
       He pulled him close between his outstretched legs, wrapped his arms around him and rested his chin on the freshly shampooed hair. He was always flustered at times like these, never sure what to say or how to act. But he went with his gut. “Sappy’s okay, Justin. In fact, it’s perfect.” When a lone drop fell on his hands, he knew his instinct had been right.  
   
                                                                                          * * *  
  **You can never truly capture what was or what might have been. But sometimes, if you’re lucky, the present recalls the past and the past foresees the future. It’s up to you to make it happen.**       

       In the beginning of this latest test drive in their relationship, the impulse had been to pick up where they left off, to maintain the status quo. Not because it was easy, but because it was familiar. And also impossible. Too much had taken place and neither could find a way to merge who they were before with who they were now, nor did they want to.  
  
       Even now, when that period in their lives is mentioned, it’s talked about in the most ambiguous of terms with a carefully drawn curtain of privacy protecting it. Each man had hit rock bottom in his own way. Alone. But they crawled out of the abyss. Together. With the ever-present albatross of failure hanging over their heads, they were very much aware it might not work. But the alternative was so unimaginable, they found a new appreciation for second chances and persisted, determined not to not to give up on each other.  
  
       The tentative détente introduced a new and unusual dimension into their relationship— conversation. With no preconceived judgments, no rose-colored glasses, they were simply two men who loved and respected each other. They still had arguments, sometimes fierce and bitter ones, and they still hurt each other with words or actions. The difference now was that they attempted to resolve their problems through talking and listening.  
  
       Justin was always quick to apologize if he was wrong, but it wasn’t easy for Brian to say I’m sorry. The words had a habit of sticking in his throat. On a few occasions, though, they were necessary and according to Justin, he came through with flying colors. Besides, there was something to be said for make-up sex.  
  
       He also learned to give Brian space and time to open up at his own pace. He wasn’t disappointed. Buoyed by the growing security of their relationship, Brian gradually unlocked parts of himself. Without fear of rejection, he came to see that vulnerability didn’t necessarily mean weakness and honesty didn’t always bring pain.  
  
       Both knew that Brian had many issues to work through. One of the stipulations when they started this trial reunification was that he had to continue his therapy. He grudgingly agreed and after a few sessions, admitted it wasn’t such a bad idea. Ever the opportunist, he even considered pitching a national ad campaign to the American Psychological Association focused on the mental health issues of the gay community. He was supremely confident he could get the account, considering his expertise on the subject.  
  
       Justin continued to see Warren on a semi-regular basis as well, not only for himself, but also for the relationship. Smart enough to accept that he was ill-equipped to handle Brian’s problems alone, he welcomed the therapist’s guidance. Combined with his own insecurity issues, he still wasn't comfortable with Brian's need for an occasional anonymous fuck, but he no longer felt threatened or hurt. He even joined him a couple of times and confessed the experience had been kind of hot—the ultimate mind fuck. Also, Brian's visits to the backroom were becoming the exception rather than the norm, giving him hope that there was light at the end of the tunnel. Additionally, after dogged probing from Warren, he questioned whether or not he honestly wanted certain traits of Brian to change. He wouldn't be the man he fell in love with, the man he still loved.  
  
       Yet, there were certain subtleties in the man that were impossible to miss. Like the time he brought home the art book _How to Read Paintings_ with the flimsy excuse that now Justin could read it silently instead of talking about it loudly; or when he brought a container of Häagen-Dazs ice cream because Justin had a shit day; or when he went to Chicago for a business trip and sent him on a dildo scavenger hunt in the loft with the promise that if he found all the treasures, they would use them when he returned. Definitely not over-the-top-romantic gestures, but it didn’t matter. They were the Kinney versions of flowers and candy and never failed to put a lump in his throat, which never failed to give Brian ammunition to call him a lesbianic twat.  
  
       Despite everything life had thrown at them, with all the difficulties and complications of trying to work things out, they were still together in their own non-defined, non-conventional, openly admitted relationship. They learned the hard way there are no freebies in life, that anything truly worth having is worth the struggle, and that maybe, just maybe what’s really needed to make a relationship work is a little give and take.  
  
  
**“A soul mate is someone who has the locks to fit our keys and the keys to fit our locks. When we feel safe enough to open the locks, our truest selves step out and we can be completely and honestly who we are; we can be loved for who we are and also for whom we’re pretending to be. Each of us unveils the best part of one another. With that one person, we’re safe, with that one person, we’re whole.”** _R.Bach_  
  
_~FINI~_

**Author's Note:**

> That's all she wrote, folks! Hopefully, the muses will reappear. But for now, I'll be working on another QAF fic project (*g* one that's taking forever!)


End file.
